


The Color Series

by Spillingvelvet



Series: The Color Series [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spillingvelvet/pseuds/Spillingvelvet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of moments during the filming of LOTR.  Set in New Zealand.  Sweet, soft, dirty.  No angst here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grey

There's a storm raging outside. On the verge of, anyway. There's lightning, and the dull roar of the trees in the strong wind. Orlando can see the tree-trunks, dark slashes topped with murky green in the distance, and grass flash bright and blue in the lightning before dulling to grey between.

He lights another cigarette and sits back against the wall. With the palm of his hand, he nudges the window next to his face open, eyes twitching half-closed when it squeals in protest. His hand comes away with paint flecks on the palm and he picks them off with the stub of his nail.

Cool, wet air is sucked inside, pushing papers off the dining room table and rattling a beer can across the floor.

Inhale, exhale, his cigarette bobs with the drag. There's another shock of lightning, a clap of thunder, and Orlando knows the storm is two miles away.

His telephone rings in the kitchen. He lets the machine pick up and isn't surprised when there's no message. Orlando imagines that the color of the sky must smell like this day. Cold, damp. Like soggy grass and someone's fireplace down the street. He can tell that fall is coming, even with the seasons mixed up and foreign.

Lightning flashes, but Orlando can only count to one before the thunder rolls by.

Rain begins to slap against the screen. His jean leg is getting damp where his knee is pressing into the mesh. His papers are beginning to dance across the floor, illuminated in the next bright flash. Even though it's storming, Orlando knows it's dusk. His hands are getting darker, the white paper of his cigarette bluer. The storm continues to fight the sky.

There is a mug of tea nestled under the crook of his right leg. It cooled long ago, taking the warmth from his knee with it. His leg chills on the next gust of wind.

There is a forgotten breath, now, easing from between his lips. It's clouded blue with a stream of smoke.

There is the sky, mottled and bruised. Like God wrapped his hand in a cloth and sucker-punched it. The rain bleeds through his cigarette paper.

The telephone begins to ring again, and this time he drops his cigarette butt into the mug and rises to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Orli?"

"Mmm."

"It's Elijah," the line statics for a moment.

"Hello." Orli takes the phone back to his window seat.

"What are you doing?" Elijah asks. Orlando hears the snick of a lighter and Elijah inhales.

"Probably the same thing you're doing," Orli tucks the phone between his chin and shoulder.

"Yeah," Elijah coughs and Orlando hears him take another drag.

"You want to come over?" Orlando asks. The mug tips perilously when he crosses his legs over it.

"Yeah," Elijah says again.

***

"You alright, man?" Elijah tilts his head and looks up Orlando's bare chest. Orlando looks down and his brows furrow and the corner of his mouth quirks.

"Yeah," a pause and a breath, "Why wouldn't I be?" he's confused and huffs out a soft half-laugh.

"Dunno," Elijah shrugs and twists his neck, bringing the wet pout of his mouth against the skin of Orlando's belly. "Quiet," his lips buzz and drag.

"Tired," Orlando says, shifting his body against the sheets. He watches the light through the slick window dance down Elijah's back. It's almost too dark for anything to be colorful. Elijah barely has dimension next to him. Their clothes are flat splotches on the floor.

Orlando cups the back of Elijah's neck, pulling him up his body. They roll, Orlando easing on top, spreading Elijah's thighs to slide down between.

The rain falls, gliding down the windowpanes in soft rivers, all the light in the room shimmers through.

Their skin clings. They are in a warm, snug cocoon while the storm rages around them. They roll again, and Elijah wriggles on Orlando's body. He's hot, his skin flushing. Orlando takes the tips of Elijah's fingers between his teeth.

They rock to the beat of the rain.


	2. Orange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta: [](http://abundantlyqueer.livejournal.com/profile)[**abundantlyqueer**](http://abundantlyqueer.livejournal.com/)

Orlando sleeps deeply and dreamlessly. He puts his head to the pillow one moment, the sun just peeking over the mountains in the east and turning his white-curtained window peach. The next moment he opens his eyes and it's a yellow-bright afternoon. A crow is serenading him outside, and the phone beside his bed is trilling loudly.

"'Lo?" he grunts, barely awake or paying attention.

"Rough shoot?" Elijah's voice, high and loud in Orlando's ear makes him close his eyes and sigh.

"Yeah, what time is it?" Orlando clears his throat and swallows around his fuzzed and sour tasting mouth.

"About one," Elijah pauses and Orlando hears his lighter snick. "Are you hungry?"

Orlando takes a moment to consider this. His stomach is still asleep, but he remembers the last meal he had the previous night: two Mars bars and a few nips of whiskey from Viggo's secret flask. It's the buzzing of the phone line that reminds Orlando to respond after a long pause.

"I'll probably be starving once I'm awake," he rasps and clears his throat.

"I can be there in an hour, if you want to go back to sleep for a bit."

"Mokay,"

"Okay."

Orlando fumbles the phone off and leaves it beside his head. He rolls away from the window to face the opposite wall. Sleep creeps in around his ears and darkens his eyes, pulling him down.

***

There is a warm body spooned up behind Orlando, and wet, hot breath on the back of his neck. He fidgets and rolls in the embrace, Elijah's heavy arm sticking to his stomach. Elijah's mouth is slack and red, lips slick with drool. His eyelids flutter and he coughs in Orlando's face. Orlando smoothes his hand up Elijah's back, rucking his t-shirt up his spine and pressing between his shoulder-blades.

Elijah's chest hitches and he blinks awake. There is a sly, pleased smile on his sleepy face, and Orlando nudges his nose against Elijah's cheek.

"Did you bring food?" Orlando mumbles into the sweaty skin of Elijah's neck.

Elijah sighs and nods. The sheet is sticking to their thighs, so Orlando kicks it off and fumbles his leg between Elijah's.

Orlando feels the heat of the sun beating down on his bare back. The sound of insects buzzing drifts through the open window. He kisses Elijah's mouth and runs his tongue along the back of his teeth. They part and Elijah grins, looping his arm around Orlando's neck and licking his lips.

"Good morning," Elijah snickers.

"Good afternoon," Orlando corrects and hugs Elijah tight before releasing him and sliding out of bed. "Do you want a beer or whatever? It's too hot for tea for tea."

"Yeah," Elijah stretches and sits up, rubbing sleep from the corner of his eye.

He stumbles out of bed and follows Orlando out of the room, letting out a wide yawn.

"This night-shooting shit of yours is screwing me right the fuck up," he grumbles, tripping over a pair of Orlando's shoes and catching himself on Orlando's shoulders to avoid a prat-fall.

"Careful," Orlando chuckles and turns around.

Elijah shrugs and Orlando swoops in, catching their mouths together fast and breaking apart, and then deciding he wants more and pushing Elijah against the wall.

"Mmm," Elijah smiles.

He winds his arms around Orlando's neck and buffs his broad palms up and over Orlando's fin of hair.

"Hi," Orlando says when he pulls way finally.

"Hi. Now give me a beer and then we can make out some more," Elijah grins.

"Yes, indeed," Orlando says and spins away down the hall.

Elijah follows tight on his heels, breathing in deeply to smell Orlando's deodorant and sleepy skin.

***

Orlando sets down his third beer and peers at Elijah in the next lounge chair. The sun is low in the sky, and their shadows are draped in long dark scratches across the deck.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks.

"Mmyeah," Elijah sighs and grins.

"Good," Orlando says and rolls out of his chair and crawls on his hands and knees to Elijah's. He props his forearms on the chair next to Elijah's hips, and nudges his nose at the elastic of Elijah's boxers.

"Cat," Elijah laughs out and flops one hand to rub at the back of Orlando's head and neck, digging the pads of his fingers into the triangles of muscle in Orlando's shoulder.

Orlando licks his tongue out under the top of Elijah's underpants, sucking the elastic between his teeth, and tugs sideways, baring Elijah's hipbone and the crease of the top of his thigh. Elijah lifts his hips helpfully, and Orlando spares one hand to tug the whole garment down, trapping Elijah's thighs together.

Elijah is almost fully hard, the dark flush of his cock nestled into the hollow of his groin. Orlando pushes his nose into the curly V of Elijah's pubic hair, breathing in musk and salt. He extends his neck and presses a soft, giving kiss to the plum-red skin of Elijah's glans.

Elijah makes a pleased grunting sound and wriggles his torso in pleasure.

Orlando clicks his tongue and scoops it under Elijah's cock, lifting the tip gingerly and rolling it back and forth. He lets it go carefully, and gathers some saliva before taking Elijah's penis back into his mouth and moving the spit slowly around the glans with his tongue. Elijah hacks out a moan and his fingertips start to dig insistently into Orlando's shoulders.

"Okay," he says and scrubs his free hand through his own spiky hair, tugging the short strands down his forehead, "Okay okay okay."

Orlando mews and sucks more of Elijah's cock into his mouth, hitching his body higher and pivoting up on his elbows to bring his face straight over Elijah's cock.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ," Elijah grits and fumbles his feet around, flexing and extending his toes. His face and chest are flushed and sweating.

Orlando bobs his head and sucks harder, pursing his lips tightly. He feels the vein throb on the underside of Elijah's cock, and there is a minute twitch before his mouth floods with spunk and Elijah cries out, his body hunching over. He pounds the armrest of the chair twice and laughs ecstatically, scraping his hands desperately over his head and face and chest.

Orlando swallows twice, three times, and lets Elijah's spent cock slip from between his lips with a slick pop. He kisses Elijah's belly, and slides up into the chair next to him. Elijah looks sort of lost for a moment, and waves his hands vaguely before him, until Orlando settles down next to him and hitches his knee up across Elijah's sensitive crotch.

"Yeah?" Orlando asks and shifts himself closer.

"Fuckin' A," Elijah sighs, wrapping his arms around Orlando's neck.


	3. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter = adult. Beta by [](http://kate.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**kate**](http://kate.dreamwidth.org/).

It's raining again, for what seems like the hundredth time this week. It falls down in a heavy, obscuring curtain. A week-old coffee mug on the deck railing is overflowing, the water flushed clean. If it ever lets up, Orlando knows it's going to be hot, oppressively so. Rainy season in New Zealand means days and weeks and months of swimming to set and the pub and home again to dry off. No one ever forgets to close their car windows, because they all learn the lesson the hard way with wet arses and mildew.

Orlando steps out onto his sodden deck and lets the rain pull his shirt down heavy on his chest. The drops are fat and comfortable, each exploding on the white cotton to make long, oval splotches that soak together until it's all slick and transparent. Water streams down the tip of his nose and plasters his mohawk onto his forehead.

The air smells clean, like the way dirt smells when you plant things. He can hear ocean swell and crash on the far side of the dunes, and the sound of all the water blurs everything else. There is the snick of the sliding door in its track and a warm body presses up against Orlando's back.

"Hi," Elijah gives Orlando a kiss on his shoulder blade and wraps his small, pale arms around Orlando's waist.

"Hallo," Orlando grins and tips his head back, butting the back of his skull on the top of Elijah's. Water splashes onto his face and sneaks up his nose and through his lips. His arms rise up from his sides and his palms welcome the rain.

Elijah's fingers, quick and sly, wriggle under the hem of Orlando's soaking wet t-shirt. They are cold and make Orlando laugh giddily when they press into his skin. Elijah eases the shirt up and Orlando bends his elbows, wrings it up over his head and drops it on the wooden slats. The fine vellum hairs on Orlando's arms and chest and stomach all prick up and tickle before the trickling water drags them back down in rivulets.

Orlando turns around and gathers Elijah against his chest, ducking his head and mouthing at the base of Elijah's ear. Water slips down the crevice behind and Elijah's skin is slippery and cool on his tongue.

Orlando steals his hands around to pluck at Elijah's shirt buttons. They come apart with difficulty, the fabric of his shirt getting stiff with water. He pushes the sides apart and down Elijah's arms and smiles into Elijah's face when they are both naked from the waist up. Elijah's face is smudges of black eyelashes and red lips and the fluttering blue of his eyes.

"Hello," Orlando whispers and pulls Elijah up to him to sip the water in the pale fine hair on Elijah's top lip. Their mouths blunder together for a while, Orlando not trying to make any sense out of the kiss, but enjoying the texture and warmth of Elijah's mouth.

"Let's-" Elijah starts, tugging the button of Orlando's jeans.

"Yes," Orlando answers and they work the denim down and off and Orlando kicks it away. His legs goosepimple and his stomach flips with a giddy thrill as Elijah drops down to his knees and drags Orlando's pants off his hips and down his thighs.

"Yes," Orlando whispers to the storm, letting his head fall back again.


End file.
